Partnerships
by Nathan Perry
Summary: It's nearly a year after Catwoman's protegee, Tiger a.k.a. Dick Grayson, gave up crime. What's he been up to? More importantly, what's next? Sequel to 'Partners'
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Some writers wait for omens to begin a new story. A new moon, a rainbow, that sort of thing. This morning, I passed a dead deer on the road and sat through a hailstorm (not exactly common on the California coast). Make of that what you will. And I don't own these characters. Or the deer.

**----- ----- -----**

**Partnerships**

Chapter 1

_March 19th..._

It was late at night, he had a diamond necklace in his hand, and he was staring at the wrong side of a pointy object in the hands of a guy about his age dressed in an outfit more suited to Dick's day job than the nighttime activity he had decided to resume. '_This wasn't a good idea,' _Dick thought.

----- ----- -----

_Earlier that day..._

It was another show, on another night, in another city. When they'd arrived, he'd pitched in like everyone else in the employ of Haly's Big Top, setting up tents, food stands, fencing. He'd taken pains to make sure he wasn't branded a prima donna just because he had his own trailer. It worked, for the most part. He fit back into circus life easily enough, he'd just found the fit wasn't as comfortable as he remembered.

Center ring performers weren't expected to take tickets or man the booths on the nights of shows, which was just as well. Trips into the assorted cities to visit museums, cafes and libraries were a large part of what had been keeping Dick sane. Nearly eleven months he'd been out on the road, and he was losing his taste for it.

Not for performing, mind you. For ten minutes each night, there was just him, a set of traps, and the sounds of the crowd: murmurs, gasps and roars. For those ten minutes, each time his hands caught the trapeze bar, it felt like the calloused hands of his mother and father. It was hard not to throw out just one more trick, just to make the moment last a few seconds longer, but the performer inside wouldn't let him. Once he hit the quad, the show was over. His part of it, at least. Get back to the platform, take your bow, head back to your trailer.

Another show. On another night. In another city.

Dick's eighteenth birthday was in two days. It was a date that nagged at his subconscious. Not that he put much stock in his impending 'adulthood'. He'd been essentially on his own for years, made millions and now owned a business that employed dozens. Only in thirty-two hours would he be a full-fledged adult human being? It still stuck in the back of his mind, though.

Dick was coming to grips with the fact that whatever his future was, it wasn't going to be with Haly's Big Top. It was with that in mind that Dick suited up in his old costume, brought the whip and claws out of mothballs and set Tiger loose on Star City. It wasn't Gotham, but it had a few places worth taking a closer look at. He'd found himself in the habit of doing that in the last few cities, scouting potential targets.

Entering, things had gone smoothly enough. It seemed that the security systems of jewelry stores in towns that weren't home to Catwoman didn't need to be as good, (which struck Dick as rather odd, since they didn't keep her out anyway.) Cracking the store's small vault was almost pathetic. When you have a lock opened by an electronic signal rather than physical tumblers, and all it takes to send that signal is to cross a couple wires behind the panel's keypad, most manufacturers suggest that said panel be secured by a bit more than two phillips-head screws.

Opening the vault, he grabbed a pair of pieces that were in the way, stashed them, then reached inside for the diamond necklace that was clearly the best piece in there. Looking it over, Barbara's words from the year before echoed in his mind. He recalled the portly, balding salesman who'd been behind the counter when Dick was browsing through. The unctuous little man, upon seeing Dick's Knights sweater and faded blue jeans, had informed him that they didn't carry costume jewelry. Dick found it hard to muster up much sympathy at the possibility of him losing his job.

"Freeze, punk!" Dick heard. He felt a rush of panic. Had he missed a silent alarm? Had the seemingly-poor security lulled him into missing something less obvious? He slowly turned around, expecting to see guns and men in blue. Which made the bow and the kid in red quite a surprise.

Dick felt, oddly enough, relief. This was more familiar ground. Costumed 'heroes' might be better-trained than your average police officer, but there was only one of him to avoid, and they tended not to use lethal force, at least not against jewel thieves. "Aren't you supposed to be green? And old?"

"Put it back, funnyman," the vigilante ordered.

"Then what?" Dick asked. He might not be able to use Selina's more visual distractions against the bowman (although with that bright red Robin Hood getup, Dick kind of wondered), but there were other was to confuse a crimefighter.

"Then you're going to jail."

_'Predictable,'_ Dick thought. "How?" The archer looked at him like he'd just asked if his arrows were pointy. "Well, if I attack you or run, I'm assuming the bow comes into play. I'm also assuming you aren't going to shoot a nonviolent thief at point-blank range with a lethal weapon. So, how are you getting me to jail? Going to be hard to call the cops while keeping your arrow nocked. Are you going to march me down the street at arrowpoint?"

The teenaged archer looked confused. Dick had expected as much. No crook could be expected to take someone in that outfit seriously, especially not a kid. Most probably attacked him. Someone actually surrendering had to be a new thing to him, (not that that was exactly what Dick was doing.) "What are you," he asked, "some kind of joker?"

Dick looked insulted. "Am I wearing purple, laughing insanely?" The vigilante's eyebrow raised. "Joker? Clown? Gotham City? Ok, never mind. Let me make a suggestion. I'll leave this necklace here on the counter and walk out of here. You'll have stopped the crime, and nobody will have gotten hurt." Which would still leave the ruby brooch and the emerald earrings he'd already slipped into his pouch. Not that Dick actually expected him to take the deal, but it amused him nonetheless.

"I have a better idea," the red-clad crimefighter answered, and without moving his bow, his foot shot outward, the heal of his boot smashing into a glass display case containing a selection of diamond rings Dick had deemed beneath him. The case's alarm, which Dick hadn't touched, made no sound, which was not a good thing, since Dick knew the signal was being relayed to the police.

"Not bad," Dick said, tossing the necklace into the air. The archer's attention was distracted just for a moment, long enough for Dick to bring his whip to bear, the leather coiling itself around the vigilante's arm. Dick yanked on the whip's handle, noting in his mind that this was a good deal more fun with Barbara on the other end. With his free hand, he grabbed the necklace and dropped it into his pouch.

The archer managed to hold onto the bow in one hand, the arrow in the other, but Dick grabbed his wrists. As they struggled, the vigilante quipped, "Not that the whole whip thing isn't interesting, but I really don't swing that way."

"No straight man since Errol Flynn has dressed like that," Dick said, clawing the bowstring, snapping it with a twang. He gave his whip-handle a tug, releasing the now-bow-less archer's wrist. The vigilante backed off a bit, planting himself in front of the doorway and saying, "You are _not_ getting out of here."

Dick chuckled. He zipped the pouch shut, but while the necklace was safely tucked away, his hand didn't come out of the pouch empty. He threw the small pellet at the archer's feet and ran towards him. The vigilante crouched, preparing to use an aikido throw on the oncoming thief when a cloud of white smoke erupted, enveloping him in a fog. Dick leapt, flipping over him and sailing through the doorway untouched. Out on the street, a whip-swing brought him up onto the fire escape of a four-story building.

As he ran, Dick couldn't help but laugh. Batman would pop a vein if he knew Dick had used one if _his_ tricks on a robbery.

----- ----- -----

_The next morning_

He'd gotten up early and headed out to breakfast at a French bakery he'd seen across the street from the jewelry store. He'd acquired the Gothamite tendency to look down on most other cities, and therefore wasn't expecting much from the cuisine, but this was better pain au chocolate than he'd had in a week's worth of breakfasts in Paris.

Sitting outside, he sipped at his espresso when his cellphone rang. 'Cat Scratch Fever', a ringtone he hadn't heard in months. He grinned, took the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. "Selina!" he said cheerfully, "Calling to congratulate me?"

He wasn't at all prepared for the gravelly voice that replied. Not. Exactly. Bruce Wayne's voice. _Batman's_ voice, more accurately.

Dick took a second look at his phone's display. The caller ID listed her home phone number. He frowned, could his heist have possibly made the _Gazette_? The necklace couldn't be worth more than a half-mil, retail. "Afraid I wouldn't take your call if it came from your phone?" Was it possible to send a fake caller ID?

Put them back.

"Where have I heard that before?"

Grayson...

"I thought you guys were territorial about this sort of thing. 'My city' and all that. Shouldn't you be siccing the Robin Hood twins on me?"

You want me to tell Green Arrow and Speedy your identity?

"...He calls himself _Speedy_?"

I suggest you put them back. If you don't, I will _not_ leave this to Green Arrow. You know what I do to thieves.

"Ok, ew. Thanks for the mental image..." There was silence on the other side. Dick explained, "It's eight in the morning and you're in Selina's apartment. Let's not talk about what you do to thieves." Dick imagined the glare that must be occurring back in Gotham right now and grinned. "Look, when Selina gets out of the shower, ask her to call me, will you?"

Dick decided to be nice to the guy. It couldn't be easy to get into the whole Bat-mood and have the thief you're trying to shake down ask you to have your girlfriend give him a call. "If I promise to put them back, will you ask her to call me?"

How did you know she was in the shower?

"Because you wouldn't have made this call if she were going to hear you." Dick ended the call, put his phone away and shook his head.

----- ----- -----

_Ten minutes later_

As he walked along the streets of Star City, Dick's phone sounded, the same ringtone as before. Flipping open the phone, he said, "He actually told you. I'm amazed."

I'm disappointed in you, kiddo.

"Huh?"

Set off the alarm, smashed a display case. I thought I taught you better than that. She ruined the stern voice with a light chuckle.

Dick laughed in response, "I'm offended that you think that was me. Junior version of the local welcoming committee. They're not as subtle as the Bats around here."

Don't go to Miami. Daniel's in a federal prison.

Dick smiled. So far as he knew, Selina hadn't stolen anything since he'd left Gotham, but whether she had or not, obviously she was still the same Catwoman. "That Bruce's doing?"

He won't say. Just gives me that damn smirk.

Dick frowned. The incarceration of Selina's old fence might prove problematic. "Dammit. Think there's any chance Penguin would fence for me?"

From inside his cell?

"He's _still_ in Blackgate? The old boy's slipping." Dick pondered, realizing the full breadth of his difficulty. "Dammit..."

What?

"This was more of a whim than any sort of meticulously-planned heist. I never made any contacts with any fences other than yours."

There's always the pawn shop.

"Har har. I'll figure something out. It's not like I need the money or anything. You want the necklace?"

Not if this picture in the paper is accurate. It's a nice piece to sell but way too gaudy for me to wear.

"Think Barbara would like it?"

Hoo boy...

"_Kidding!_ Kidding!" Dick chuckled and said, "Anyway I guess I'll just put it back tonight."

Ok, it's not _that_ hard to find a fence. Guilty?

"Not exactly. More like...it was one thing when I needed the money. But now? Pop ran things tight enough that the circus was able to keep going despite having to pay protection. When you figure almost forty percent of the revenue was going to that, I've been able to have Pop give everyone a raise, himself included, and I'm still making about ten thousand a night. We do about a hundred shows a year. And the circus pays me a salary commensurate for what a center-ring performer makes. Not what you and I were pulling in, but I don't need to steal right now. Maybe it won't always by the case."

So why did you? Just keeping your hand in the game?

"..."

Dick?

"I'm here. I don't know. Is that not the dumbest thing you've ever heard. I cased the joint, disabled the security, got the goods, ditched the crimefighter, and I still don't know why I was doing it. It wasn't as much fun as it used to be with you." He paused and laughed, "Except for ditching the crimefighter. Would you believe he calls himself _Speedy_? I will never complain about 'Tiger' ever again."

Selina's laughter rang in his ear.

----- ----- -----

_That night_

The break-in went exactly the same as the night before. The store's security system had been repaired, but not replaced. He stared at the vault panel and shook his head. The store's management had completely failed to notice the scratches on the panel's face. _'They probably just changed the code.'_ Dick shook his head and popped open the panel. He crossed the wires again, when he heard a grizzled voice behind him, "Not smart, coming back here kid."

_'Oh for fuck's sake...'_ Dick thought. They couldn't possibly have...he raised both his hands and turned around. Both of them, this time. Green Arrow and Speedy had arrows nocked and aimed at his chest. In disbelief, he asked, "You two actually staked this place out again in case I came back?"

"You say that like you didn't," the older of the two replied.

"I didn't."

"Do we look stupid to you?" the younger one said.

Looking obviously downward at their costumes, Dick smirked and answered, "Do you really want me to answer that, _Speedy_?"

"Can I shoot him?" Speedy asked, as a familiar dark shape stepped away from the shadows behind the two archers.

"No." The gravelly voice was unmistakable.

"What the?" Green Arrow said, whirling around to face the caped figure. Dick took note of the fact that while the one moved to face the new arrival, the other kept his focus on Dick. "The hell are you doing here, Bats?"

"No," Batman repeated. "Your young partner cannot shoot him."

The archer answered hotly, "Last time I checked, he didn't take orders from you, Grim."

Dick watched in amusement as the archer's hackles raised. _'He's just as big a jerk to these guys as he is to me.'_ Oddly, Dick found that comforting. Batman brushed past the two, saying, "I presume you've noted that he hasn't opened the vault yet?"

"He already robbed the place yesterday," Green Arrow said, "I didn't need to wait for him to commit another count."

"Not what I'm referring to," Batman said. "The pouch." Dick laughed and put his hands down, handing the pouch over. Batman opened it and removed the diamond necklace Dick had stolen last night. Glancing at the archers, he asked, "Recognize this?"

Green Arrow and Speedy glanced at each other, looks of confusion upon their faces. "He's bringing it back..." Speedy said, lowering his bow.

Batman was frowning at the pouch. Pulling out a sheaf of hundred-dollar bills, he glanced queryingly at Dick, who answered, "For the brooch and the earrings I snagged. List price plus sales tax." Grinning, he added, "I know a girl they'll look good on."

"He _must_ be one of Batty's baddies," GA answered. "He's obviously nuts." Dick glared at him.

Batman glared at Dick, "The security system? And the case?"

Dick snorted, "The security system is crap. They should pay _me_ for pointing it out to them. And we both know that _I'm _not the one who breaks things on jobs," he said, grinning at the Bat-grunt elicited by the reference to the fake statue Batgirl had broken (over his head!) on his last job in Gotham. "They want payment for that, they can take it from Carrot Top over there."

Green Arrow glanced in Speedy's direction. "You broke the case?"

"You're taking his word over mine?"

"You never _gave_ me your word. You said, and I quote, 'the case got broken.'"

"Seeing as how my part of the show is done with," Dick said, "I'm gonna go now."

"Shut up!" both archers said simultaneously.

"You know what?" Dick said, glowering at the two of them, "I don't think I will. See you around, Batman." He threw a pair of smoke bombs to the floor and took off. After a good deal of coughing, yelling and cursing from the archers, when the smoke cleared, they were all alone in the building.

"Well that's just peachy," Oliver said, frowning. The necklace was still sitting next to the money on the counter. He glanced at his partner and his frown deepened. "Uh, Roy? Where's your hat?"

Roy's hand went to his head, feeling only his shaggy red hair. "It's gone!" He pointed at Oliver's head, saying, "Yours is too!"

"Dammit!" Oliver cursed.

----- ----- -----

_Five minutes later_

Atop one of Star City's roofs, Dick took a seat, leaning back against the brick chimney. He needed to do some thinking. A brief shadow flickered in the moonlight. Dick didn't hear the Dark Knight's arrival on the rooftop, didn't see the man standing behind the chimney, black cape billowing in the wind, but he knew what that shadow meant. he held up the red cap in one hand and said, "Souvenir?"

"No thank you," Batman graveled, stepping around the chimney and showing the green cap in his, "Got my own."

Dick's eyes bulged behind the lenses of his mask in surprise. "You...you _stole_ it?"

Batman nodded, "I stole it. Don't worry, he's got plenty more where this came from."

"Why? He piss you off or something?"

"Yes, actually. That's not why though. Selina's been worried about you."

Dick glared at Batman. He stood up, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the chimney. "Try again."

Batman grumbled. "'Worried might be too strong a word. We talked about your..."

"Comeback?" Dick suggested.

Batman grunted in response, saying, "I got the impression that you didn't particularly enjoy your 'comeback'."

"Just so we're clear here, I _am_ going to verify this conversation with Selina, and if it turns out that your 'talk' was actually eavesdropping on our conversation, the both of us are going to claw the shit out of you." That got another grunt. "Get to the point," Dick demanded.

"You have a rather uncommon skillset, not necessarily suited to a wide variety of careers, and between acrobatics and larceny, you seem to be dissatisfied with two of them."

"If you're about to make me an employment offer, I'm going to demand a signing bonus, Wayne Enterprises stock options and a good dental plan."

Batman scowled, "Fine. This was a mistake."

"Why?"

"Because you're obviously not interested in doing anything worthwhile with your life!"

"I mean, why are you asking me this? From what Barbara's told me, her partnership with you was over your objections rather than with your blessing, at least at the start. Somehow I doubt you go around recruiting policeman's daughters or acrobats or thieves to the great Bat-cause."

"Barbara told me about the night you two met."

"You know I'm not exactly thrilled with you checking up on me via all my friends."

"Barbara is my partner. Selina is..." that was a little harder for Bruce to encapsulate. What were they, really? "The point is, in that alley, and in that kitchen, your instinct was to do the right thing. You may have been a thief, you may have been my enemy, but when you saw an innocent person in danger, you did the right thing. Not every policeman's daughter, acrobat or thief has the ability to do what I do. Almost none, in fact."

"But beyond ability, there has to be that instinctual desire for justice. I think you have that. I think it's the reason you'll never find crime satisfying again. When you thought you weren't hurting anyone, it could be. When you accepted the truth...you may not have realized it, but it was the end of Tiger. At least, the end of him as a thief. I stole the had because I wanted you to understand what _I_ do. I'm not a policeman in a costume. On a nightly basis, I commit criminal acts including trespassing, assault, blackmail, about every traffic violation you can imagine short of DUI, and yes, theft as well. I respect the law, but I do not follow it. I break the law because it is necessary to do so to enact justice. Whatever line you think separates us, it isn't the law."

Dick scowled, "So this is all some redemption kick of yours? You couldn't do anything when your parents died. You couldn't do anything when _my_ parents died. So now, let's turn me into some junior version of you and it'll be all right? My life's purpose, revealed?"

Bruce glared at Dick's sarcasm. "You said the only difference between us was money, but money is just a tool. The difference between us was that because of money, I had an opportunity. Now you have the same opportunity. Twenty-seven minutes ago, you turned eighteen. From this moment on, whatever you do, whatever choices you make, you are your own responsibility."

"Does it matter that I don't _like_ you?"

Batman grunted. "If liking me was a prerequisite for fighting crime, the JLA would disband tomorrow."

Dick laughed, then stopped suddenly and did a double-take. "Was that a joke?"

Maintaining an absolutely straight face, Batman said, "No."

----- ----- -----

_He's still Dick Grayson, but he isn't Robin._

_Batman's going to have his hands full_

_in Chapter 2_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Insert humorous 'I don't own these characters' disclaimer here. Remember to take out these notes during the editing process. Get second opinion on whether 'humorous' disclaimer is, in fact, funny. Strike that. No one reads these things anyway.

----- ----- -----

**Partnerships**

Chapter 2

Dick said his goodbyes with a minimum of ceremony. Pop was sorry to see him go, but made no effort to convince him to stay. He'd been anticipating it for months, and had quietly gone about not putting Dick's name on the advance billings. As Pop had known, Dick wasn't the boy who left six years earlier. Everyone else didn't make much fuss. Comings and goings were a part of this life.

Batman had said to wrap things up with his 'other life' and come to his home as soon as he was in Gotham. Dick wasn't sure he liked that part about having an 'other life'. Tiger was only a costume, a disguise. At the most, it was a persona, not a completely separate person. However little he liked that, though, he disliked the explicit order even more.

So he ignored it. After his flight touched down at Gotham International, he made his way into town, heading first to Selina's. She wasn't home, so he picked the lock of her apartment's front door and left a message on the kitchen table, teasing her about the run-of-the-mill deadbolt lock she used. Of course he knew that was deliberate on her part. Little in the apartment was irreplaceable, except her Catwoman gear, which was hidden and protected by a locking mechanism quite a bit more sophisticated. (He could beat that one too, it was one she trained him on, but there was no reason to.)

He left the apartment, checked himself into a suite overlooking Robinson Park, and walked through the streets, letting himself tune into the feel of Gotham City. He grabbed a hot dog from a street vendor, making his way through the shops and storefronts of central Gotham. His eyes were drawn to a store catering to tourists, the sign proclaiming 'huge selection of Bat-merchandise'.

Dick chuckled, tossed the paper wrapper into a garbage can and headed into the store. The sign didn't lie, it was a truly massive amount of junk. Most of it was just your garden-variety souvenir kitsch; t-shirts, coffee mugs, key-chains et cetera, with a yellow or black Bat-logo stamped on them. Then, there were the more 'inventive' efforts.

Dolls, for example. Some could get away with being called 'action figures', but some of the rosy-cheeked Bat-sprites on display could be called nothing other than a doll. Actual, life-sized costumes. Dick was amazed at the range of liberties taken with the design. There being no known pictures of him in costume, the kitsch-makers had to guess.

Most were either all-black or a slate gray costume with a black cape and cowl, with varying degrees of success regarding the details. May others had assorted shades of blue. Dick and Selina had seen him wearing a dark blue cape once. Both of them had teased the Dark Knight for 'showing a little color', and they never saw him in anything but 'basic Bat' ever since. One design had the gray with a neon blue cape and cowl, which struck Dick as incredibly weird. You didn't get the handle 'Dark Knight' by wearing bright colors. The worst interpretation was an 'action figure' that made Batman look skinny, had a red bat-logo and ears bigger than the figure's head. Dick grabbed that.

Most got the logo right, middle of the chest, roughly the right size, probably modeled after the signal shined from GCPD headquarters. Similarly, the cowl was largely correct, occasionally-odd color choices notwithstanding, although everyone seemed to be guessing just how lone the ears were. Some had belts, some didn't. One large teddy bear had a bat-logo, belts and boots all in the same yellow, making it resemble Barbara's costume more than Bruce's. It sported a pair of actual plastic pouches on the belt. A grin spread across his face.

----- ----- -----

_Twenty minutes later_

The Gotham Public Library was a bit of a maze, but enough asking led him up the stairs towards an open office where a young redheaded woman sat at the computer, facing away from the door. Smiling, Dick set the bear down on the floor and crept silently across the office. He placed his hands over her eyes and said, "Surpr-" which was as far as he got before her elbow slammed into his midsection.

She grabbed his arm and spun around in her chair, flipping him over onto his back. Only they did she notice just who it was she was attacking. She stood, leaning over him, fists at her hips, glaring. "What are you doing?" she said angrily.

Dick, who had brought his hands up to protect his head against any follow-up attacks, answered somewhat weakly, "Attempting to be playful?"

Barbara's eyes searched the door and window for a sign that anyone had seen the incident, then breathed a sigh of relief. Shaking her head, she offered Dick a hand up, which he accepted. Noticing the bear, she asked, "What exactly is that?"

'_This isn't going well…'_ Dick thought. "A present? For you?"

"I see," Barbara said, eyes narrowing. "So, basically, you came to my workplace, probably asked several people how to find me since the public directory doesn't show my office, all while carrying a large stuffed animal in a Batman costume."

"It's actually closer to-"

"Dick!" she interrupted. "I _know_ what it's closer to." She sighed and slumped into her chair, rubbing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "You're sweet, but you're an idiot."

Looking for some way to salvage the situation, he picked the bear up off of the ground and held it up over his face. In his most gravelly voice, he said, "He's also a common criminal. I don't know why you even speak to him."

When he lowered the bear, Barbara's arms were crossed, but she was struggling to maintain a straight face. Giving up the effort, she laughed, reaching towards him. "You're a dork," she said. "Give me that bear."

He let her take it from him, and when she turned around, he reached forward, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I missed you," he said softly into her ear.

"Oh? You missed me just enough to get me a Bat-bear?" she teased. Despite her kidding, she leaned back against him.

"Look in the belt," he said. She craned her head to look at him curiously. He just grinned.

She pulled open the plastic flap on one of the pouches on the belt, pulling out the emerald earrings. Her breath caught. She stared at them for a moment, then put them on her ears. The green gems sparkled brilliantly against the red background of her hair, matching her eyes. She removed a small mirror from the purse on her desk, before turning to him, asking, "You didn't…"

"Entirely paid for," he said, which was true enough. He had stolen them the night before, of course, but he was technically correct that they were paid for. "As is what's in the other pouch."

She opened up the pouch and took out the ruby brooch. "A green top," she murmured, "no, a green dress." He could tell she was picture it in her mind. "To frame my fearful symmetry." Dick laughed softly at the reference to William Blake's poem 'Tyger, Tyger.' "I guess you _did _miss me," she said, reaching behind his head and bringing his lips to hers.

----- ----- -----

_That night_

Barbara was having dinner with her father, so she had promised to meet with him the next day. After stopping by his hotel and changing, he took a taxi to Bristol. Walking up the steps of the stately Manor, he rang the doorbell. A balding man with a thin mustache opened the door, answering formally in an arch English accent, "May I help you, sir?"

Dick blinked. What was he supposed to do here? Did Bruce's butler even know about Batman? Best to be safe. "Richard Grayson. I have an appointment with Mr. Wayne."

"Yes sir," the butler said, nodding his head very slightly, "unfortunately Master Bruce feels you were entirely too late, and has gone out for the night. He requests that you return tomorrow at three-thirty, and that you be prompt."

"I see," Dick said. His impassive expression, an effort to match the Butler's, was somewhat strained by the effort of subduing an amazingly strong urge to claw Batman into tiny ribbons.

He looked behind him to see the taxi he'd arrived in retreating down the long driveway. As he did, the butler said, "Good evening sir," and proceeded to close the door.

Dick stared first at the closed door, then at the red tail lights of the cab, diminishing in brightness as they got more and more distant. Frowning, he walked back down the steps towards the long driveway. When he at last passed through the heavy iron gates, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cellphone.

Accessing one of the numbers on speed-dial, he held the phone to the side of his face as he began to walk into the Bristol night. After two rings, the person on the other end picked up. "Selina," he said, "feel like a prowl?"

----- ----- -----

_An hour later_

With Barbara tied up by family obligations, it fell to Bruce to patrol Gotham City by himself, not that that was unusual. Perhaps it was just as well the Grayson boy hadn't shown up. Working with a partner without proper training would be even more difficult than working alone. His mouth tightened. He again wondered if he was doing the right thing, wondered if he was letting his sympathy for the orphaned teen cloud his judgment.

When he was considering the idea, he'd discussed it with Selina. They'd gotten very close over the past year, and she knew Dick Grayson better than anyone. She said Dick was trustworthy, and that one his trust was earned, he was fiercely loyal. Telling him how they'd met in the first place, she'd said, "I'm not surprised at the streak of compassion in him. If you get to know him, you'll see he's too good a person to let life beat that out of him. What surprises me is that he's never really learned to hide it."

So it was he that he had called when Grayson had arrived in Gotham City (he'd checked the airline's passenger records) and had failed to appear at Wayne Manor. "Could he be planning something?" he'd asked, his voice taking on a tinge of Bat-gravel.

"Yes Bruce," she'd answered with dry amusement, "If I know him, he's planning to pilfer a hot dog from his favorite vendor on forty-second street. And by 'pilfer', I mean 'buy'. He might stop by my apartment, though since I'm not there, he'll probably break-and-enter. You said he kept the brooch and earrings, right?"

"He paid for those."

"Smart kid. I taught him how to price jewelry. He figured out what'd look good on a green-eyed redhead on his own. That's the real heist he's planning, Bruce. He's going to attempt to steal your partner's heart."

"This isn't funny, Selina," Bruce graveled.

"It's very funny," Selina countered. "Whatever's he's doing, it's positively not-criminal, and you're still freaking out."

"…I am doing no such thing," Bruce protested. "I said to be here ASAP."

"And he replied with a stony silence you took for agreement, whereas he was stewing, wondering if agreeing to work with you was a good idea." She laughed softly. He enjoyed that laugh, even if it was directed at him. "Haven't we established that cats don't come when called?"

Alfred had reported Dick's arrival and subsequent departure almost an hour ago. As Bruce had ordered, he'd been turned away and told to come back tomorrow. It occurred to him that it wasn't exactly a welcoming gesture, but then he'd decided not to tempt the former thief with a house full of expensive items, many of which were easily portable.

His thoughts were interrupted when a report of a silent alarm came through. A jewelry store less than a half of a mile away. He fired his line and leaped off of the rooftop. As he approached the store, he saw a purple-clad figure on the roof of the building across from the jewelry store._'What is she doing?'_

He pressed the release button on his grapple, retracting the line and letting himself drop to the rooftop. He landed, crouching, and straightened up, asking "What's going on?" To his knowledge, Catwoman hadn't committed an act of theft since the incident at the museum last year, and he'd kept (ahem) a very close eye on her. It was a measure of the growing strength of their relationship that, across the street from a just-burgled jewelry store, he no longer leapt to the obvious conclusion.

She smiled at him, bullwhip in hand, the other resting on your hip. "I'd say someone wanted to get your attention, Batman."

'_Damnable woman…'_ he thought. "You know perfectly well how to contact me without setting off alarms." A low chuckle emitted from his throat, "And you've never had trouble getting my attention."

She grinned teasingly, "I said 'someone'. I didn't say who that someone is." Blinking behind his cowl, Batman spun around. Standing there, glaring at him, was Tiger. "You've gotten better at that," Catwoman noted.

"Maybe," the teenager replied, "Or maybe you've gotten better at distracting him." His voice was light, but his glare didn't lessen one whit.

Meanwhile, Batman's mind was racing. A set-up? Had they done this to…_'To do what?'_ the logical part of its mind said as it caught up with the instinctive brain, _'Kill me? They could do that by having me meet her at her apartment. Steal something? They wouldn't have set off the alarm if they were doing that. Get a hold of yourself!'_ This was all internal. Outwardly, he didn't move a muscle.

"I thought we should talk," Dick said, "about the nature of our proposed partnership. If you've spent much time around her, I assume you've heard the phrase 'Cats don't come when called?'" Bruce resolutely did not look in Selina's direction, and the amused smile he knew he'd see there. "I'll take that as a yes. Well it applies to me too."

Bruce glanced in Selina's direction. "You called. She came." The instant the words left his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Selina's smile vanished and her jaw clenched. Her grip on the bullwhip tightened.

Dick shook his head in disbelief. "I _asked_ her. _Please_ tell me you understand the difference. Look, I don't know how you and Batgirl do things, and that's between you two, but if you think you're hiring me as an apprentice or taking me on as a junior officer or whatever analogy you prefer that boils down to 'I take orders from you', let's just call this off right now and save ourselves the headache."

Now Bruce was glaring, "Then it's off. If I can't count on you to follow a simple instruction, I certainly can't count on you in the field!"

Hotly, Dick answered, "If you can't count on someone to know the difference between a life-and-death situation where an immediate response matters and you being a controlling, domineering _jackass_ who thinks he can order me around, I'm not sure what you _can _count on them for!"

They both stood there glaring at each other, and simultaneously turned to face Selina. "How can you stand him?" they both shouted.

"It's not easy," she said dryly, glancing between the two of them. A high-pitched scream echoed from the alley below. Without even looking at each other, both of them immediately ran to the edge of the rooftop. A momentary glanced passed between them before they both jumped off. "Those two are going to be a hell of a team," Selina reflected. "Assuming they don't kill each other."

----- ----- -----

_Who says it can't be both?_

_It's certainly not going to be easy_

_especially when Barbara enters the picture_

_in Chapter 3_


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Important note: Fire editorial staff for last chapter's mix-up surrounding humorous "I don't own these characters" disclaimer.

Addendum: Hire editorial staff first, so I can fire them.

----- ----- -----

**Partnerships**

Chapter 3

As they sped across the bridge connecting Gotham City's northern island to the mainland, Dick was trying to keep the fact that he was still angry at Batman clear in his mind. He was failing miserably. He was sitting in what was without a doubt the single coolest piece of technology he'd ever seen. Even Batman's terse command "Don't touch anything" hadn't been able to dim the wonder the vehicle inspired in him.

"What's it called?" he asked

Batman glanced in his direction. It was the first word either of them had spoken since they'd gotten in. "What's what called?"

"The car."

"Are you serious?"

Dick frowned, "Yes I'm serious."

Batman grunted and shook his head. "It's a car," he graveled, not a pet."

"It's an _amazing_ car!" Dick exclaimed. "There can't be another like it in the world!"

"I have two more, in case this one is put out of commission."

"Oh, what do you call it, then?"

"I call it 'the car'."

Dick shook his head. "You're completely soulless, you know that?" Batman glared at him for a moment and then drove the car off the road onto a dirt track. "Uh…" Dick said, frowning. "Where are we going?"

"Home."

"I thought you lived in Bristol," Dick pointed out. "We're still in Darby."

"Astute observation," Batman graveled, at no point altering the vehicle's course.

The confusion was evident on Dick's face, and it deepened once it became clear that they were approaching a solid rock face. "Uh, Batman…if this is about me calling you soulless…" Batman did not respond, instead continuing to speed towards the gray cliff. "Oh hell, he's lost it," Dick muttered, trying to figure a way out of the car.

Nothing Dick's agitation, Batman pressed a button on the console to the left of him. A panel opened on each of the armrests, and a metal arc rapidly slid out of each one, encircling his wrists and pinning them to the armrest. A similar device clasped his ankles. "What the hell?" Dick shouted, struggling unsuccessfully against the restraints. As quickly as they were approaching the wall, Dick had no time to do anything but draw in a tense breath before they were through, driving along a paved road in what appeared to be a dimly-lit tunnel.

"Holography," Batman explained as he pressed a button, freeing Dick's wrists and ankles. Remembering to exhale, Dick turned to glare at Batman. "You were getting agitated," the dark knight said flatly, "You might have panicked and endangered both of us."

"Three words," Dick said, speaking slowly and counting the words on his fingers. "It's. A. Hologram." Batman simply grunted in response. As they proceeded, the tunnel opened up into a massive cave. "What is this?" Dick asked, staring around him.

"A cave."

"What's it called?"

"The cave."

Dick shook his head in silence. Batman slowed the car to a halt on a circular platform and pressed a button on the console. The canopy slid back and the two of them climbed out. Dick's eyes were drawn to the mainframe computer hooked up to a massive monitor.

"Before you ask," Batman said, the gravelly voice taken on a dry overtone, "it's called 'the computer'." Dick muttered something under his breath as he followed the other man towards the computer. Pulling his cowl off of his had, Bruce sat down at the single chair in front of the keyboard and began to type.

Dick glanced upward at the screen. As Bruce typed, it was apparent that he was making some kind of log of the night's events. It didn't surprise him that Batman kept meticulous records of this nature, but the record itself wasn't what he would have expected. For lack of a better term, it was Batman's writing style that was a surprise. He would have thought that the way Batman would have written would have been entirely dispassionate, bloodless. '10:47: Stopped mugging on 34th St. 10:49: Exhaled." Just the facts, Bat-ma'am.

What was actually written seemed almost like a stream of consciousness, transplanted several hours forward. The log noted that exact time and location of the mugging, but also noted that he 'almost certainly broke the mugger's jaw again,' and drew the conclusion that he was unable to fully control his emotions when it came to back-alley muggings.

He proceeded from that to his encounter with Dick and Selina, and textually berated himself for 'letting a half-trained child' sneak up on him. "Hey!" Dick said. Bruce evinced no reaction to the exclamation and continued writing, noting that he's immediate reaction to Tiger's appearance was to suspect some kind of trap. "If it was a trap," Dick noted, "why would I have _spoken_ to you? I'd have just sprung the trap."

Without taking his eyes off the monitor, Bruce answered, "It was an instinctive reaction to you appearing behind me. Now let me finish this." The text continued, 'It was quickly apparent that there was no malicious purpose. The boy simply wished to complain about my response to his delays. Selina's sympathies obviously lie with him in this instance. Damnable woman.'

"This is the strangest diary I've ever heard of," Dick noted.

"I put _everything_ in the logs, including missteps," Bruce answered. "Instinctive reactions are necessary. I don't always have time to deduce my enemies' plans logically. But if such conclusions show a pattern of leading me into mistakes, these logs will show it."

"So if you put everything in there, including your mistakes," Dick said, his lips curling upward, "where is 'You called. She came'?" Bruce turned and glared at Dick, who grinned unrepentantly back at him. "Well?" Dick asked.

"These are Batman's logs," Bruce pronounced, and proceeded to turn back to face the computer.

"Yeah," Dick answered, "I sort of figured that part out when I noticed you where the one typing them." Dick felt like he could _hear_ Bruce glaring. "Well?"

Bruce turned again and said, "I told you. These are _Batman's_ logs." Dick's eyebrows rose in confusion. Stifling a sigh, Bruce explained, "It wasn't _Batman_ who said that."

"O-kay…" Dick said. "I see…" Bruce just kept on glaring at him. "We're pretty far into the Twilight Zone here, aren't we?"

----- ----- -----

After the log entry was completed, Bruce led Dick towards what appeared to be a target range. It had plywood cutouts of man-shaped objects with bulls-eyes at various rangers, the farthest seeming to be nearly fifty yards away. Reaching into his utility belt, Bruce said, "These are batarangs." Dick grinned. "What?" Bruce asked, annoyed.

"Nothing," Dick said, shaking his head, "I just always liked that name. Go on."

Bruce rolled his eyes and handed the three 'rangs to the younger man, saying, "Familiarize yourself with their use. It's not exactly like throwing a boomerang, nor is it like a shuriken or other thrown-" Dick interrupted this by throwing the three batarangs, one after the other, at a target just shy of a hundred feet. All three hit the wooden target within a foot of the bulls-eye.

Bruce arched his eyebrow, Dick answered the unspoken question with, "I always used to try to find those after you chased us. Souvenirs." With a grin, Dick added, "On boring nights, I could talk Selina into playing 'catch' with them on the rooftops."

"Who has those 'souvenirs' now?" Bruce asked casually. Dick just grinned in silence. Grunting, Bruce led Dick towards another area of the massive cave, one kept quite dark. Leading him through a thick metal door, Bruce flipped a switch and lights came on, revealing a huge mockup of a pair of a city streets intersecting, complete with surrounding buildings, cutouts painted to look like people, even a pair of cars and a small truck.

Taking a few more batarangs from his belt, Bruce glanced at Dick's costume, with only a small pouch around his waist and said, "You're going to need a belt to hold more gear." Dick slipped a thin black bag from underneath the leather sleeve of his costume. Bruce shook his head, "This isn't like hauling loot away from a jewelry store. You'll need…worry about that later. For now, he handed the batarangs to Dick and walked towards the door. "Now we test your skills." With that proclamation, he stepped through the circular hatch, shutting it with a loud clang that resonated throughout the chamber.

After a few moments, the mock intersection came alive. The cutouts began to 'walk' along the sidewalk, cross the street, and so on. Even one of the cars began to pull out of it's parking spot. Looking more closely, Dick noted the thin tracks in the cement that the cutouts moved on. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of movement. Turning, he noted the appearance of a cutout with a machine gun in a second-story window. Taking careful aim with one batarang, Dick noticed just in time that the gun wasn't a mock-up. He dived to the side as a volley of bullets sprayed into the concrete where he'd been standing a moment ago. Holes in the cement testified to the fact that the gun wasn't firing blanks.

Throwing more rapidly, Dick flung the batarang at the cutout's head. The impact must have triggered something, as the cutout fell backwards and the fun stopped firing. Behind him, another armed cutout appeared out of an alley. Dick leapt up into the air, flipping backwards over the burst of fire and driving both feet into the cutout's 'face', breaking the cutout into two pieces.

On the other side of the street, a knife wielding cutout appeared, Dick's throw blocked by a cutout of a woman with a baby carriage, (an actual baby carriage, no less.) Dick ran forward, jumping onto the hood of the slow-moving car and leaping upwards, throwing the batarang over the woman into the face of the knife wielder. The cutout fell backwards, but the baby carriage began to roll forward towards the intersection. In the mock-street, the truck began to accelerate, revealing another gun-toting cutout. Landing, Dick turned and flung his last batarang at the cutout, then ran towards the intersection, passing the truck which was headed right for that baby carriage.

Diving in front of the truck, Dick pulled the contents of the carriage into his arms in mid-air, landing with a shoulder roll. It was then that Dick noticed the 'baby' was several sticks of dynamite hooked up to a timer that read 0:04. "You've got to be…" he began as another fake criminal with a real machine gun moved out of the alleys. Tossing the bomb at that cutout, he turned and ran, diving through one of the empty 'windows' as the explosion went off.

The machinery that controlled the simulation shut down and the metal hatch opened. Stepping through, his cowl pulled back over his face, Batman said dispassionately, "Ninety-third percentile. It was good." Dick smiled. "You'll need to do better." Dick stopped smiling.

"Whattya mean? I got all the bad guys, didn't I?"

You used lethal force on that one," Batman said, pointing to the smoking ruin of one cutout. "I know what the rumors are about me. I've helped to spread them, but we don't do that. Ever."

Dick's brow rose, "Not even in self-defense?"

"Not even then. You will be trained well enough that you should never need to kill. In the years that I've done this, I've never needed to."

The two of them walked out of the simulation room and were greeted by the sound of a motorcycle engine. Batgirl killed the engine and hopped off of her bike. Noting the hatch Batman was closing, she asked, "How'd he do?"

"Ninety-three."

"Barbara glanced in Dick's direction and smirked. "Blew up the last one with the baby-bomb?" Dick felt his ears reddening. "I did that too, the first time," Barbara confessed. She frowned and asked, "I got ninety-two the first time. What'd he do different?"

"Jumped over the carriage and grabbed the 'baby' in passing rather than ducking under the truck.

"He wouldn't fit under the truck," Barbara noted.

"Still a safer move," Batman countered.

As Batman began to type, creating 'training file 3', Alfred arrived with a tape measure in hand. Approaching Dick, he said, "Raise your arms please, Mister Grayson."

Dick blinked and said, "Uh, Batman? Your butler is trying to mug me with a tape measure. Is this another test?"

Barbara laughed. Bruce said, "He's fitting you for a new costume. Raise your arms."

Dick raised his arms, but said, "My costume fits fine."

"No no, not over your head," Alfred said, "hold them out to the sides."

Dick complied, but he wasn't ceding the point yet. "What's wrong with my costume?"

"It's impractical." Bruce answered.

"It's just Selina's costume with a different size and color, and no ears."

"Selina's costume is impractical."

Dick paused before speaking. "…I'm going to regret asking this, but how is it impractical?"

"Leather tears too easily."

"Wow," Dick said. Batman glanced in his direction. "That is way more than I wanted to know about you and Selina." Batman glared.

"Oh let him keep the leather," Barbara suggested, an impish smile appearing on her face. "It shows off his butt." Dick's face reddened.

"Be that as it may, Miss Barbara," Alfred interjected as he continued his measurements, "I would suggest that in the course of your nightly rounds, the protection offered by Kevlar might in fact prove more useful than whatever seductive efforts this gentleman of yours might be able to unleash upon Two-Face, Joker or the Riddler. Now please hold still."

"I don't know about the others, but maybe Riddler," Barbara joked.

Dick shook his head. "Nuh-uh. Eddie's definitely straight."

"Lime green tights," Barbara argued.

"Query and Echo," Dick countered. "Have you seen those two? More importantly, have you ever talked to them? He doesn't keep those two around for their brains. And I've seen him stare at Selina."

"I see," Barbara answered. "And why have _you_ talked to them?"

"Uh…sidekick conference?" Dick said lamely.

"And did this _conference_ involve the exchange of phone numbers?"

"It might have," Dick grinned. "Don't worry. You've ruined me for all other sidekicks."

"Hey!" Barbara protested. "I am _not _a sidekick!"

"Mister Grayson, please. Hold still!"

"This cave used to be so much quieter…" Bruce muttered, sighing.

----- ----- -----

_Bruce is having second thoughts_

_Dick wonders if he's thought it out at all_

_Barbara's thinking about a change_

_But it's Selina's thoughts that are going to cause the most trouble_

_in chapter 4_


End file.
